G's Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland
by Calesvol
Summary: A collection of drabbles, lemons, fluff, and maybe some angst thrown in. Turkey and Iceland, hot and cold, out there and in here. Share in their happy, sad, or just plain crazy memories that span the reaches of time. Requests accepted! Rated M, generally. Turkey/Iceland
1. Dearest, We Gather

The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland proudly present...

_Dearest, We Gather_

(Warnings: M, sex, shyteen!Iceland, sexyexperiencedadult!Turkey, fluff, Turkey/Iceland)_  
_

Emil, Iceland, fumbled with his map. He glanced at it over and over again, hoping in vain to find the opulent and gigantic home of his lover, Sadiq, or Turkey. He was in the historical district of Istanbul, one of the largest cities in Turkey, so far having enjoyed several hours of sight-seeing with the kindness of Turkish guides to point him in the right direction. Many seemed very interested in the startlingly blonde-haired boy, his mellow violet eyes, his skin that reflected sunlight like the moon. He was quite the curio in a sea of tanned skin and burnished hair, and quite a fetching thing, many women already having tried to pick him up.

Already he had seen many historical sites in the ancient city, somewhat jealous of the number of people that greatly overshadowed his own. He couldn't help being a small country, but it still made him feel insecure amid nations that boasted their great power so effortlessly. Then, there was Sadiq, one of the most mysterious, oldest, strongest, most handsome nation in his eyes… Emil couldn't help but blush at the thought of the mask-bearing, muscular man who he called a lover. It wasn't official since they had only gotten together a week or so before, sometime after the Christmas bloodbath.

Their relationship was a secret from many of the other nations. Not that Iceland really minded; they had no business in his relationships, anyway.

Checking the pictures sent from Sadiq on his iPhone, Emil tried comparing the pictures to what he saw around him. Sadiq's home was tucked away in a cove of trees, but it was nonetheless a large residence that could be visible from just about anywhere.

He wandered aimlessly before a chorus of fluttering leaves brought him to attention. Tucked away from the main traffic of the larger street were two imposing columns with a long, winding road that had tall trees to form a natural tunnel over it. Emil glanced at his phone, smiling at his success in finding the illusive place. Tucking it back into a pocket, he made his way down the long road.

Birds chirped in lively syncopation of each other, the leaves of the trees fluttered in breezes that carried the tang of the nearby seas. Emil took in a deep breath, glad once again to be away from the chill of his home.

"I wonder what Sadiq had in mind for me," Emil wondered aloud, knowing that the older man had a few tricks up his sleeve despite his old age. Sadiq always tried to act young and hip despite his age, which could get embarrassing at times, but Emil liked it. At least he wasn't like some of the older nations who were stuck in the past and who refused to move forward in life.

He trekked for another few minutes before finding himself face-to-face with the façade of Sadiq's home, a grand residence with many windows at its front, denoting many rooms, and the telltale prick of a mosque dome that housed Sadiq's private hamam. Emil felt excited; he had quite a fondness for bathhouses and hot springs. Sadiq had promised to personally give Emil his first experience in a Turkish hamam.

Before he even came to the door he found it flung open, a tanned, handsome man waiting inside.

Sadiq was dressed in his usual green parka and brown pants, although today he wore no mask and his hood was down.

"Hey, there," he greeted, smiling softly, his brown eyes tender as they rested on Emil. He seemed to relax instantly at the sight of the much younger nation. "Did you have an okay journey here? Hopefully the first class accommodations were to your liking?" He sounded like a doting older guardian.

Emil smiled warmly and entered, setting down his duffle bag. Sadiq leaned against a wall and watched as Emil entered, taking in the richly decorated foyer of grand Turkish style, coming as a shock to the isolated Icelandic boy. The large dome had a crystal chandelier that twinkled and glittered in the shafts of sunlight cut from small diamond-shaped windowed inset into the dome. Fluid paintings of bygone rulers and such ringed the dome, lower ceilings of other rooms standing contrast to it. Being a one-level home, there were no stairs to climb, thankfully. In the open area they were in, large niches in the back held many plush seating areas, ornate screens acting as windows that let in the breeze from the nearby sea. Stained-glass windows higher above cast radiant rays of rainbow light upon the floor, the walls plastered white and edged with intricate patterns.

"This place is beautiful," Emil breathed, walking over to a leveled, recessed floor where a large pool with a burbling fountain rested, the natural light a glittering distortion upon its surface. Sadiq followed him, wrapping his arms around Emil's thin waist and holding the much shorter nation close from behind. Emil craned his neck to see Sadiq tenderly gazing down upon him, the older nation going to far as to rest his hands on Emil's slightly flaring hips.

"You're beautiful," Sadiq whispered. He placed a kiss on Emil's cheek, causing the inexperienced nation to blush slightly. Emil turned himself around to rest his head on Sadiq's muscular chest, inhaling deeply, taking in his musky, aged scent.

"Hey, I made some ashure if you want it. It was my first time, so hopefully it came out okay," Emil said, wrapping his arms around Sadiq's chest before letting go. Sadiq followed the boy to his carry-on and from it Emil removed a ceramic container.

Sadiq's eyes widened and his stomach gave an audible rumble. He flushed in embarrassment, scratching the back of his head, much to Emil's amusement. The boy stifled immature giggles while he followed Sadiq into his kitchen.

Like everywhere else the ceilings were high and the area was open, having a distinctly Mediterranean charm to the décor. Emil set the container down on a rustic table and sat on a bench, watching as Sadiq pawed through some drawers to find the right silverware. Procuring some, he headed back to find the container unveiled. He licked his lips at the wonderful aroma wafting tantalizingly from it.

"Hopefully it's okay. I heated up before coming here so it should be the right temperature," Emil said, one of Sadiq's hands taking his waist and holding him to the Turkish man's side. Emil nestled close to Sadiq, dozing off slightly, contenting himself with the sounds of Sadiq's eating. It was strange and new to him for he was new to being in a relationship. Sadiq would be his first for everything.

"Hey, Sadiq." Sadiq swallowed down another large portion, glancing down at the young boy. He smiled and took another bite of the delicious pudding, which tasted better than some of Istanbul's finest.

"Hm?" He swallowed down the food again.

Emil squirmed slightly. "Um, I think you should know that I've…never been in a relationship before this. I'm not experienced or anything…" The Nordic nation blushed heavily, embarrassed by the confession. "You might be my first time for everything…"

"Hey, hey, you're still a young kid! You don't have to be experienced or anything. But, heh, I'm just gonna warn you now, I've done everything." Sadiq chuckled and demonstrated by feeling up Emil's shirt, running some fingers across the young boy's stomach.

Emil squeaked indignantly, Sadiq moving away towards the sink, chuckling to himself as he went. He dumped the dishes in the sink and reached into a cabinet where he procured a bottle of raki, brewed right at home. He stretched luxuriously, revealing a muscular midriff, Emil glaring at the intimidating body.

Sadiq chugged down a good amount before slamming it back down on the counter. Emil watched him suspiciously as Sadiq locked eyes with him, the Turkish man looking unnervingly sexy.

"Time for a bath," Sadiq said melodiously, stooping down to the bench. He grabbed Emil and hoisted him over a shoulder, much to Emil's furthering embarrassment.

"H-Hey, you said this wouldn't come until later!" Emil cried, trying to crane his head to see Sadiq. "Put me down, you old man!"

"Say anything else and I'll nail you right here on the floor, kid." His breath was heady with alcohol. Emil was too burned and flushed to speak, utterly speechless.

They passed through many winding hallways like an endless maze, Emil sneaking glances into the many richly decorated rooms. The persistent thought of the moment was wondering which room was Sadiq's. Defeated, he decided to just calmly go through with this.

They came to a large set of wooden doors, rustic and iron-worked. Sadiq opened them and both slipped inside.

Sadiq finally lowered Emil to the ground, the small nation huffing slightly. Sadiq just smirked sexily, making Emil turn away to blush. Even though Sadiq was much older than him, he still managed to retain that unique, mysterious air only nations touched by the Middle East carried.

Inside was the main partition of the bath, the place known as the "sicaklik," was the largest. A great dome with many intricate mosaics and small glass windows that let in the rays of the setting sun soared above them, a large marble slab known as the "gobek tasi" rose from the dead center. Tall, fluted columns encompassed the marble slab where the area surrounding the dome was, recesses containing ornate golden basins that burbled with water. Everything was of a rich marble, and even an untrained eye could see that this place was old.

"This will probably be your first time, so just let me guide you," Sadiq said, stripping off his clothing. Emil watched on in idiotic silence, mouth slightly agape at the toned, muscular, dark-skinned body before him. He literally paled in comparison.

Emil turned away in time as the last of Sadiq's clothing became heaped in a corner, turning to see Sadiq wearing only a knee-length towel around his waist. He swallowed, realizing that he'd have to do the same. He had no time to prepare himself as Sadiq walked up from behind, helping Emil ease out from his coat.

"What are you—" Emil had no time to say any more as he felt Sadiq's hands on his stomach, causing sensitive skin to crawl. He began to place gentle, fleeting kisses on the base of Emil's throat, causing the young boy to be instantly hypnotized, leaning his head back against Sadiq's shoulder. Sadiq chuckled, finding himself very turned on. Only Ancient Greece was able to truly turn him on, but so far the Icelandic nation had ignited the spark. He was smaller than Ancient Greece, but Iceland held a strange beauty that no other person could compare to.

"Ahhh~" Emil breathed, voice unintentionally seductive, especially to Sadiq. The older nation tried to kiss the veins jutting from Emil's neck, feeling the warmth rush by so hotly. The skin there bloomed into flowers of hot pink, so stark against the Nordic's pallid skin. Emil was reduced to giddy breaths, breathless laughter tinged with sighs of contentment escaping from his lips.

Sadiq's hands began to swiftly undo each and every button, one undoing the tie at the base of the boy's throat. Emil could feel the bristle of Sadiq's stubbly beard brush past, feeling like a cat licking away at his face. He let the shirt drop away from Emil's body, the ribbon trailing behind, fluttering to the ground like an autumn leaf.

Sadiq let himself feel up the boy's body, interest piqued, wondering how such an effeminate and delicate body could disguise itself so well beneath the Nordic's classy, musician-like uniform.

"Hey, why don't you change," Sadiq suggested, greatly amused as Emil became snapped from his rapture. A smile pulled across his face as Emil felt himself frantically, wondering how in the hell his top disappeared.

"Hey, you, y-ou-! W-When did you-! How…?" Emil stammered cutely, the color draining from his face. The color returned as a hot pink, amusing Sadiq to no end.

Sadiq raised a hand, giving Emil his deadliest, sexiest look possible, something he reserved for the sexist dynamite of the ladies. "Guilty, as charged," he said, voice oozing with sexiness. Tonight, he would compete with France over who was the most seductive of the older nations. And Emil was his lucky victim.

Emil's eyebrows knitted together, blush deepening dangerously. He held his ground only for a minute before rushing to a water basin and…dunking his entire head in.

Sadiq's eyes widened in alarm. He rushed over to Emil and grabbed him by his small shoulders, forcing him from the depths of the cool water. "Hey! Don't do that!"

Emil just turned to glare at him, looking absolutely drop-dead gorgeous with his hair plastered to his head, water running down over his flushed body. It was Sadiq's turn to be flustered, swallowing thickly.

"This kid's a dangerous one," he muttered under his breath. "Uh, just take the rest of your clothes off and wrap a towel around your waist, okay?" he added over his shoulder, to which Emil did as quickly as possible.

Ready to start, Sadiq guided Emil to the raised marble slab and instructed him to lie upon it, the young nation regarding him suspiciously but laying down without much trouble. Emil looked around before dozing off, assuming Sadiq knew what he was doing.

For the next half hour, both nations indulged themselves. Sadiq dug his fingers into Emil's back, shocked at how tense the younger nation's back muscles were, rubbing up and down the length of his long, slender back. Emil had a hard time containing his sighs and moans, and Sadiq had an even harder time keeping his emotions in check. He was getting a serious turn on from the sounds Emil made, almost as if they were actually having sex.

Emil, meanwhile, was lost in his own little rapturous naiveté, no dirty thought crossing his mind. He was childishly happy at how relaxed he was, especially since this was a free ride for him.

Sadiq moved to the boy's arms, then his legs, rubbing out every kink, flinching and blushing with every moan sounded from the youngest Nordic. Even rubbing his neck elicited a shattering groan that almost made Sadiq want to take the boy right then and there.

Finished, he swallowed thickly, glad the whole ordeal was over. The burning in his loins was starting to get unbearable.

"It's time for the actual washing, okay, kid?" he announced, to which Emil sat erect, feet to the floor.

"Okay, I'm ready," Emil chirped innocently, a childish smile flitting across his features. Sadiq couldn't help but envy the dense little nation; here he was fighting off a major turn-on while Emil looked as carefree as any kid his age.

Sadiq went to the nearest basin, and from under it he procured a shallow but proper water carrier and filled it, taking it over to Emil. He took an even smaller dish-like apparatus and filled it, slowly pouring it over Emil's head, watching in rapture as the water droplets ran down the shape of his beautiful face. Sadiq swallowed again, reaching for another scoop of water, repeating the process until Emil was good and wet. He licked his lips, sucking in a calming breath. His skin was too dark to tell whether he was blushing or not, which was indeed a blessed relief.

He found another bucket filled with soapy water and a muslin cloth. He ordered for Emil to keep his eyes closed, the boy happily complying, as per usual. Covering one hand with a washing mitt, he dipped it into the clean water and began scrubbing down Emil's body, surprised at how much dirt he was picking up. He had to resist those sexual urges most of all.

Today of all days he had to be in heat.

Emil giggled as the mitt ran over his chest, skin glowing as Sadiq worked hard. It was getting harder and harder to keep himself reined in.

Finished with the mitt, he took the muslin cloth and dipped it into the soapy water, always amazed at how many bubbles the cloth was able to magically retain. He swirled it in the air for a moment to make it swell before squeezing the cloth through a hand where those bubbles disgorged themselves on to Emil's body. Sadiq repeated this a couple of times before placing the cloth back with the soapy water, laughing at Emil's snowman-like state. Emil kept his eyes closed, poking his tongue out childishly.

Affectionately, he ran his hands through Emil's wet hair, lathering it up to the point of looking like a bouffant. He gently stroked Emil's face tenderly, making sure nothing got into the boy's eyes, unable to help himself as he caressed the boy's lips. Emil's eyes flashed open to study him, large magical amethysts that made him forget what he was doing for a moment. Sadiq cleared his throat and averted those eyes, resuming his cleaning of the boy.

Eventually he was finished with that so he proceeded to pour the clean water over Emil, assuring that every last soap bubble had flowed away from the boy's body.

Emil stretched luxuriously when they were finished, rolling his shoulders gleefully, smiling softly. Sadiq massaged his temples and swiped a hand across his brow. He was proud for having held himself back. If he'd been back in his Ottoman Empire days he would've made the boy a wife, part of his enormous harem, a constant favorite. Those days were long gone, but he couldn't help but reminisce and revel in the glory days.

"Sadiq?" Emil had a towel wrapped around his shoulders, and was for the most part fairly dry. "You've been quiet the whole time. Is something the matter?"

Sadiq just stared for a moment. "Oh? No, no. I'm just out of it. Been a lot of work recently, you know?" he laughed, stretching himself out.

Emil walked over to him, dropping the towel. He coiled his thin arms around Sadiq's neck and stood on the tips of his toes, placing a tender kiss on Sadiq's lips. Sadiq's eyes widened in surprise before slowly shutting again, taking Emil into his arms and deepening the kiss even more. Sadiq moved them back towards the marble slab, bumping into it. Emil and Sadiq slowly lowered themselves upon it; eventually Emil's back touched the cold surface.

Sadiq begins to murmur things in Turkish, all of which were praises to Emil: his beauty, his body, everything. Emil couldn't understand a word, only focusing on the hotness between every long lip-lock, the feeling of his body completely surrendering to Sadiq's every touch. Sadiq could feel the boy trembling beneath him, the nervousness shuddering with each breath the young Nordic drew. Despite the inexperience, Emil trusted him. That alone was enough.

Emil drowned in Sadiq's every word, enraptured with the way those words seduced him, the way Sadiq made his body pliant to obey the older nation's every wordless command.

"_Sen benim tanrıçamsın. Bu dünyadaki herkesten daha güzelsin_," Sadiq whispered, giddy at that fact that they were even venturing this far. Emil simply nodded, not sure as to how to respond. Sadiq smothered their mouths together, his arms holding Emil closer to his hot and fevered body. Emil held his hands to his chest, completely unsure as to where his boundaries lay.

"Sadiq," Emil whispered, hunching his shoulders as he initiated a French kiss, their tongues battling for dominance, Sadiq winning easily. Their positions changed, the brunt of Sadiq's weight entirely upon Emil. It seemed that all they knew was the other's lips, pale skin and polished bronze; dark skin smooth as chrism oil.

Sadiq broke contact to kiss every swooping and curving contour of Emil's face, tongue gliding over his cheeks, tasting the skin like flower's petals, lips touching the hollow of his nose, the upturned bridge. He turned his head to lap up Emil's lips, both coming together several times, the softness of the boy's full lips more apparent with each contact. Emil wound his fingers through Sadiq's hair, bringing Sadiq closer to him.

Sadiq paused to lock eyes with Emil, as if asking permission to do something. Emil closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss Sadiq with blissful slowness. Sadiq moved downwards towards Emil's chest, taking tentative nips of the boy's nipples. Emil let loose a shrill cry of ecstasy, from there becoming much more vocal, progressing far beyond soft moans and sighs.

Sadiq took one of Emil's slim legs and raised it high, studying it for a moment before running his hands to the thigh where he squeezed it. Emil moaned loudly, lowering his leg and taking Sadiq around the neck again. He resumed lip contact, Sadiq unable to resist his siren's calls.

Soon, Sadiq could sense the strong need to pass on his essence. While Emil was distracted by the kiss, he readied his erection, poising it near Emil's virgin entrance. Without warning, he surged through, ramming it past the tight flesh. Emil gasped and groaned loudly, his primordial cry tearing through the air and returning to rain around them as an echo.

Sweat began to mar Emil's brow as Sadiq thrust himself harder, nearly sheathing. Emil cried out, digging his nails into Sadiq's skin, breath coming out in long drags.

"A-Almost there, k-kid," Sadiq smirked, tongue licking around his lips, the moist upper lip. He thrust again, now fully sheathed. Emil gasped in shrill pain, a trail of sweat dripping down his face and neck. Their gap in experience was stronger here than it was anywhere else, also due to their tremendous age differences.

"S-Sadiq…!" Emil gasped, hands clenched together as he reached his climax, screaming so beautifully. Sadiq hit his climax as well, only he was able to better contain it. He only gasped shakily, tremendously experienced to the point of being able to repress something that usually elicited loud sounds.

Shakily, Sadiq unsheathed himself, breathing in gulps in order to catch his breath. Emil had curled up into a ball, new to the searing pain, his first time. His arms clutched his lower abdomen, breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut. His afterglow was beautiful, skin unbelievably flawless especially under the low light of the sunset taking place outside.

Emil opened his eyes just a crack, shakily smiling. "S-Sadiq, I…love you…" Sadiq stood in abject shock, then softening. He took Emil into his arms, holding the small frame against his muscular chest.

Sadiq tenderly stroked Emil's hair, then standing, taking the boy into his arms like a bride. In some ways, it might have been true.

"Same here, kid," Sadiq said quietly, kissing the crown of the sleeping boy, exhausted from his first time. He walked through the halls and back into the largest room of his home, finding a large niche with a raised level littered with many plush cushions made of a rich navy silk. He lowered Emil upon the plushest of the cushions, watching tenderly the form of his sleeping boy.

He settled himself on his back, making himself comfortable. Since he sank deeply into the cushions, Sadiq repositioned Emil so the boy came to rest on his chest, a comfortable arrangement for them both. He brought a blanket over them both, covering them just enough.

Sadiq watched and felt Emil sleeping, his relaxed breaths and peaceful face so much like a child's. He stroked the boy's hair, closing his eyes to breathe in the refreshing tang of the sea, concentrating to hear the gentle lapping of waves on the nearby shore. He was alone with his lover, his other half, for the first time in so many years. Though age would surly complicate things, family would try to interfere, and friends would try to break them up.

As time would prove, one didn't always have to face the world alone.

It was now "we."

.END.

* * *

Last thoughts:

Welcome to The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland! For those who are familiar with G's Shameless Tales of Zhongguo and Nihon, I think you should know that this will essentially carry the same concept. The only reason I've created these anthologies is because these two couples (so far) are my favorites and are couples that I can and will write much about. Turkey and Iceland are two nations that have something irresistible that just makes them click. Turkey, the old man, vigorous and a lively nation with Middle Eastern mystery and sex appeal. Iceland, the younger, more inexperienced nation whose seen more ice and snow on a daily basis. Two starkly different countries that can care and come to understand each other. Because I love these two as couple so much, they're getting their own anthology. As with G's Shameless Tales, I'll be taking requests and it will mostly consist of deanons from the kink meme as well as original stories.

Let's spread the love, people!

~Peace, G


	2. You Are My Northern Lights

The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland proudly presents...

You Are My Northern Lights

(Warnings: M, fluff, lemony, first-time sex, shyteenUke!Iceland, adultsenseiSeme!Turkey, Turkey/Iceland)

In Turkey, it rarely ever snowed. Such an occurrence dented the influx of regular tourists from around the world that came to his white-washed shores to soak up the sun and experience firsthand the mystery and majesty of his country.

Of course, when one is in low spirits and drinking the day away, drowning in his own miserly thoughts, not even the warmest breeze from the sea nor the newest happenings in Istanbul was enough to rouse himself to do something more cheerful. The sun was at its zenith in the heavens, wispy clouds carried away by a warm breeze, birds chirped from natural perches, and the leaves fluttered delightfully like chattering children. On a day like this he could show off his muscular physique on one of the many beaches and score a beautiful woman for the evening. He may be old, but women these days seemed to be settling for older counterparts.

And he was by no means a bad looking fellow. Maybe his age betrayed him sometimes, but for the most part he was a handsome man with a body a Grecian god could boast of. His short, brown hair looked good on him and the short beard growing along his jaw made him irresistible to both genders. His skin was a warm olive color, sometimes bearing a cocoa tint if he basked under the Mediterranean sun long enough. Tall, dark, and handsome. So why wasn't he at least chasing some local tail to lift his spirits? Why not visit a hamam for the day?

A certain teenage nation was the cause of his misery.

Several weeks ago the parallel world was imperiled for reasons unknown, and Christmas had been at the mercy of shadowy capers that had been bagging people all over the world in order to find a specific birth mark on certain people. Turkey had been too hammered to remember the exact details, but the youngest Nordic had implanted within him an obsession.

Iceland had been a close friend during that confusing time, sticking by him through the whole thing. Iceland had cared for him throughout, and Turkey had come to develop strong feelings for the younger nation. Maybe he'd been confused because of being drunk, but Iceland had seemed to genuinely care for him, wanting to stay by his side and guard him from the Shadow-tans. For a man largely ignored or hated by some nations, Iceland's warmth towards him was touching. The reserved and shy boy had become dear to him.

There was no way to counteract the guilt, however. Iceland had the mentality and appearance of a teenage boy, not looking older than fifteen or sixteen. Turkey was a matured, much older man who was much too old in his mind, much too aged for the young Nordic brimming with vitality.

"Argh!" Turkey growled in frustration. He chugged down a large amount of raki, glaring with the shimmering horizon of the Black Sea with something like anger and sadness. His vision wheeled for about a moment before coming back into focus. The sun did nothing but glare at him, recalling suddenly days of invasions from his Ottoman Empire days, forgetting his dilemma for but a moment before it came to recoil violently in his mind.

Not even the staggering heat of the sun could burn away the guilt, nor did drowning in seas of alcohol. He collapsed against the lounge on his home's terrace, blankly watching the rustling palm fronds of the nearby palm trees, trying to distract himself to some degree. Nothing seemed to help; all he could see was a head of silvery blonde hair, rapturous violet eyes and the stoic expression on the boy's beautiful, innocuous face.

"Mr. Sadiq, there's someone here to see you," a maid in his service informed him. Turkey regarded her irately and she flinched, knowing that her employer was in another of his foul moods. She timidly stepped back and gazed sidelong, trying to avert her eyes from his intense, striking eyes.

"Tell them I'm not home," Turkey snapped, waving his hand in airy dismissal.

"Sir, it's a boy. He seems to know you and he said that he needed your help. He looked close to tears, sir," she pressed, holding her hands together courteously.

Turkey's heart seemed to skip a beat. He swallowed, his mind racing with possibilities. "What does the boy look like?" he asked, now extremely interested.

"Well, he's rather…pretty, I suppose. I mistook him for a female model, at first. Very beautiful…silvery hair…violet eyes…and he was holding a puffin." Turkey's heart lurched into his throat, then dropping to his ankle. He shook his head, trying to retain at least iota of common sense.

"What are you waiting for? Let him in! Prepare something fitting for our guest. Give me a moment to make myself suitable!" Turkey ordered, rushing curtly past the woman and into his home, rushing through the open, traditional-looking Turkish home. He came to his room and into the adjoining bathroom, quickly raking a comb through his hair. He splashed water on his face, trying to make himself look less wasted. He inspected his teeth, swishing mouthwash in his mouth to mask the strong, overbearing scent of liquor.

Coming into his open-air home, he made way to the living room area. As he had thought, Iceland was here.

The boy was sitting on a couch, holding a steaming cup of tea. An eye muscle twitched in annoyance at the sight of the bold maid. Her arm was circled around his shoulders and they were speaking softly, Iceland resting his head on her shoulder. Turkey felt himself burning with jealousy, but tried to keep himself in check.

Upon seeing Turkey, she started. "Good-bye, Emil," she whispered in his ear. Turkey scowled at her, abhorring her for her closeness with Iceland.

"That's all. You're dismissed for today, Miss," Turkey interrupted, arms folded in displeasure. The woman started and bowed quickly, then fleeing from the room. The sound of the front door being closed softly brought him back to reality.

Iceland turned his head slowly, eventually locking gazes with the elder nation. Turkey swallowed at the sight of his mesmerizing amethyst eyes, his full lips brought into a melancholy line. Model, indeed. It was a wonder this boy hadn't been subject to human trafficking yet.

His skin seemed to glow with a light of its own, almost like the Northern lights. Turkey's expression and eyes softened just at the sight of the boy, wanting now more than ever to help him.

"Hey, pops," Iceland greeted softly, voice cracking. He really did sound as if he'd break down at any time. The puffin seemed to huff and flew away to some other area of the house.

"Sorry I came to you like this. You're the only person outside my family I could think of seeing." For some reason, that sounded extremely gratifying. He only thought of him? No one else? That alone was enough to heat his cheeks.

"Um, I got you something. You know, to make up for this… I heard that you like sweet things, so I got some Swedish fish before coming. They're pretty good. Finland seems to think so, anyway," Iceland explained, forcing a smile on his face. It looked painful for the boy to do.

Turkey accepted the small package as he sat next to Iceland, setting it next to him on the couch. He propped his legs on the coffee table, wrapping an arm around Iceland's shoulders. The young boy continued to look dejectedly at the ground, sitting stiffly.

"Hey, what's bugging you, boy? Why'd you come all the way here? I mean, I'm flattered, but what is it that you can tell me that your brothers can't know about?" Turkey gazed at his friend, pulling him closer to his side. Iceland seemed okay with it, resting his head on Turkey's shoulder.

"Denmark and I got into a fight. I hated how he was always being an inconsiderate jerk towards everyone, mostly towards my brother, Norway. I tried to keep myself in check like Norway told me to, but I couldn't take it. I basically blew up at him and he shot me down the minute I did. I told me of how I was a girly virgin and he got really nasty. He destroyed me and I lost it. I ran away from home and came here without thinking. Before I knew it, I was on the plane and at your front door. I just want to know what to do. I feel so lost." Iceland's eyes narrowed at the bitter memory, tears building up at the corners.

Turkey sighed. "Well, since you call me pops, I might as well live up to it. Come on, you can tell this old man anything. I'll see what I can do, alright?" He rubbed Iceland's shoulder reassuringly.

Iceland sighed heavily. "…I'm still a virgin. But, I don't want to be one anymore. I just want to prove Denmark wrong." Turkey smirked to himself. It seemed the heavens were smiling down upon him tonight.

Turkey didn't reply. He gently coaxed Iceland against the couch, the boy completely covered by him. He lowered his lips gently to Iceland's, experimental. Iceland's lips never relaxed or accepted his, but he seemed too shocked to be able to react properly.

The older man tried again, this time making it full and tender. This time Iceland kissed back a little bit, wrapping his arms around Turkey's neck.

"Do you want to…?" Turkey tried, only to be brought back into a lip lock. Iceland kissed back fully, pulling himself upwards slightly, Turkey supporting him with a hand.

"I've liked you for awhile, boy," Turkey said out of the blue. Iceland regarded him with fey eyes, blinking once with his long eyelashes. He lowered his reach, beginning to chastely kiss Turkey's neck, trying his hand at dominance.

Plying along, wanting to uphold his promise, he gave Iceland free rein. The young boy experimentally kissed the length of Turkey's neck, nipping his collarbone and the flesh beneath his jaws, the junction at the underside of his jaws and throat. Turkey flipped their positions, letting the younger nation have his way with him. Iceland continued his exploration of the older man's body, straddling him with elongated legs.

"Atta boy. Keep going; don't be nervous. You need the experi—ahhh…" Turkey was cut short by Iceland moving upwards, the boy briefly nuzzling his chin with its bristly beard, nipping at his nose. Turkey chuckled as he did this, rubbing the boy's back like a child. He straddled Turkey's chest, dipping downwards to hold the older man's head with his small, delicate hands, kissing his brow lightly. He guided the man upwards, encouraging him to change positions again.

"I like you, too," Iceland said matter-of-factly, cradling Turkey's head with his hands. Turkey let them stop for a moment, simply taking this moment to bask in the heat they produced together, the fluttering beat of Iceland's heart. Iceland sighed and stroked Turkey's hair, eyes starting to droop. Everything had been so exhausting, and he was starting to feel sleepy…

Turkey raised his head a little, seeing that little Iceland seemed ready to conk out at any time. Aware of the fact that the boy's family would be looking for him, they would have to start and finish as soon as possible. Times like these made him long for the good old days when things like this could've been carried out in private with as long a time period as he'd need. Lovemaking was something that took time and creativity, something they apparently didn't have today.

A rather kinky idea sprang into his mind.

"Boy, wake up. Now's not the time to sleep. Come with me," Turkey urged, rising from the couch and, regrettably, Iceland's embrace. The boy was slow getting up so Turkey simply scooped the boy into his arms, tossing him up slightly to make it more comfortable. Iceland clung to his neck because of it; not that Turkey minded.

He made way through the maze-like halls of his home; soon he and the young Nordic were before the entrance of his bedroom. Iceland used a free hand to jiggle the doorknob open, Turkey sidling through once it was.

Both came into a room fit for a sultan, replete with Persian rugs, a balcony overhanging the sea, a high dome with long shrouds dangling from it the encompass the bed, the bed in question being a large, king-sized one with silk sheets lazily slung across it. Myriad vines climbed the walls, palmettos rustling in the breeze invited inside by open doors. Tapestries depicting legends of old were draped across the walls, which were deeply lacquered panels; the floor was of many varieties of tile and mosaic, all arranged in thoughtful geometric designs. To complete it, there was a large, black lacquered wardrobe in one corner and a simple vanity seated before the bed. To Iceland, it was culture shock at its finest.

Turkey stooped over the bed, lowering Iceland amid the plush, crimson silk sheets. Iceland gave him one last look, eyes sweet and full. Turkey swallowed, wondering how he was holding himself back so well. He ruffled the boy's hair before pulling away to search for something in the voluminous wardrobe.

Iceland rested among the silk sheets, eyes occasionally trying to see through the thick veils draped around the bed. He could only see Turkey's tall, muscular silhouette, making him somewhat jealous of the older man. From what the other nations had seen at the bloodbath, Iceland was an undeniably shy nation, clearly ashamed of his slight physique that made him stand contrast to bulkier nations like Germany, Greece, and Turkey, for instance.

"Ah, here we go!" Iceland sat up in the bed, rubbing away his sleepiness like a small child. He leaned forward and peered through the veils, studying what Turkey meant to show him.

Iceland paled at the sight of the skimpy clothes Turkey had procured, embarrassment flooding to his features.

"You expect me to wear that?" he squeaked in horror. Turkey proudly displayed a pair of baggy silk pants that were slit at intervals, which would clearly display leg skin in the wearer moved even the slightest. The slits stopped high upon the thighs, shattering his confidence in the situation even further. Those slits were piped by ornate woven gold thread that shimmered with movement, complimenting the periwinkle silk well. At the waist were thick cords of beads that moved as Turkey rustled it, obviously meant to draw attention to the wearer's waist. To match that were a pair of netted sleeves meant to be worn on the arms, blue and gold beads woven into the design by the multitudes, shimmering in the sunlight from the outside. To top it were a pair of slippers studded with ornate, bead-worked designs.

"It's not that bad. You'll look cute in it," Turkey said reassuringly, stroking the side of Iceland's cheek with a few fingers. Iceland gave him a look of comic horror, causing Turkey to chuckle.

"But, I don't want to! My body doesn't look good at all! It looks like it belongs to a malnourished young boy!" Iceland protested, suddenly realizing that outfit was meant to showcase that which he felt most self-conscious about. "Besides, I'll probably just ruin it. It looks expensive."

"You could set this on fire and I wouldn't care. I want you to wear it." Turkey's voice oozed sexually, making Iceland feel unbelievably flustered. He dipped down to the boy's neck, suckling the flesh there loudly, making his presence evident. Iceland blushed even harder, squeezing his eyes shut, holding his breath.

Taking drastic action, Turkey pushed the boy back on the bed, making quick work of the boy's neck, kissing and nipping and sucking every tender and vulnerable spot. This would speak where persuasion could not. Iceland was reduced to a panting, heavily-breathing mess, unable to think coherently. Turkey deviously began unfastening the buttons of the boy's dress shirt, tugging off the ribbon neck tie with his teeth, grinning smugly at Iceland as he did so.

The boy squirmed away as soon as the reality of the situation crashed down around him, nearly missing his sanity. Turkey just grinned again, growling throatily through his teeth and lunging for Iceland. He pinned the boy against the headboard, trapping Iceland's hands within one of his gigantic ones, the boy just averting his eyes in abject humiliation. Turkey gave Iceland a triumphant grin, sloppily kissing the boy's lips.

"Now, how about a little cooperation, boy?" Turkey grinned, tightening his grip on Iceland's hands just the slightest. Iceland scowled for a moment, scoffing in disgust.

"Fine, if it gets you off of me, old man," Iceland quipped cheekily, giving Turkey a dead sexy smirk of his own, although it could barely hold a candle to Turkey's trademarks. Turkey just ruffled the Nordic's hair, not that it really showed in Iceland's persistent bed head. Turkey moved off of the bed, tossing Iceland the outfit.

"I'll give you five minutes, kiddo. Showtime starts after that whether you're ready or not," he smirked, to which Iceland poked out his tongue. Turkey left him alone, getting himself ready for the show.

Iceland took a deep, calming breath. The weight of what would soon take place made his heart race and his palms clammy. His trembling hands could barely help him fumble out of his clothing, Turkey having preemptively removed some of the clothing. One military uniform later, Iceland was struggling into the damnable pants Turkey wanted him to wear. His feet struck through the slits, barely making it to the ankles where it rested. It was unnerving that he wouldn't have any top to wear, but Denmark's stinging comments from earlier just fueled the fire of his determination. Soon, he had the pants, sleeves, and slippers on. The pants were obviously extremely revealing, the beaded cords jiggling with each slight movement he made. He sat at the edge of the bed, surprised to see the horizon outside already succumbing to twilight.

A breeze from the outside blew past him, ruffling his clothing and making him shiver at the unexpected coldness of it. He tried rubbing his arms with his hands only to run into the delicate bead work. How annoying this outfit was!

Taking a dainty step, everything jingled like bells. Iceland instantly recalled some moves a belly dancer did awhile back during the time when his boss had come to Turkey. It had been a fine display, a male and female dancer able to bend their bodies to the music like contortionists; he remembered those swishing hips and other bodily displays.

A hand circled around his waist, lips to his neck. Iceland flinched, but then relaxed into Turkey's embrace. He could feel Turkey's body heat radiating against his own, obviously meaning that Turkey was topless like he was.

"Showtime," Turkey whispered, feeling up Iceland's body, liking what he felt. His little moonlit goddess looked absolutely radiant; he was glad that he convinced Iceland to do this. His hands went to Iceland's hips, trying now to stimulate some movement.

Turkey tried to teach Iceland some basic moves; he fluidly moved his hips in almost a circular fashion, loose and free, like a vortex. He took Iceland's hips and tried to repeat the movement. However, Iceland was much too stiff. Maybe he could give the boy lessons some other time.

He took Iceland's hand and led him blindly through the halls, the sun barely above the horizon now, long swathes of pastel-colored clouds sweeping across the sky, the moon starting to chase away the restive sun. They came to a set of screen doors which Turkey cast open, revealing a romantic cabana on the terrace facing the sea. The brine of the rapturous Black Sea wafted past, tantalizing and pleasurably warm to the senses.

Turkey led Iceland to the cabana, both seeing each other only as a silhouette and the light was fading, fast. Iceland brushed away the translucent veil and crawled onto the bed and lying upon it. He waited for Turkey who slowly advanced over him, giving the boy a deviously sexy smile which drove Iceland to the edge. He swallowed, watching Turkey's every movement.

The older nation gazed upon Iceland's small, lithe form. The moonlight above was strong tonight and flooded all around them like a midnight sun. Iceland's skin seemed to reflect the moonlight back, looking like an ethereal being incarnate. Turkey bent down and planted a tender kiss on the boy's moist, shining lips, treasuring this boy who he'd come to love recently. Iceland circled his arms around Turkey's thick neck, pulling himself upwards to deepen the kiss.

The Mediterranean nation circled his arms around Iceland's waist, pulling them closer together. Iceland sat himself up and let Turkey preside over his body, flinging his head back, letting the older man kiss the length of his long, swan-like neck. Iceland moaned low and long, deciding that he wouldn't hold himself back, for tonight at least.

Iceland's breathing became heavy and labored as Turkey descended down Iceland's chest, Iceland's arms long and straight as he braced himself to Turkey's neck. Turkey stopped at the heart, placing several kisses over the area like a talisman for protection. Iceland let himself feel every contour of Turkey's body, running his hands over the bulk of his arms and chest, the smoothness of skin that flowed beneath his fingers like fine oil.

Iceland fell back against the bed, feeling Turkey's lips kiss every inch of his abdomen, filling his ears with a hot and sensual chorus. His arms became kissed in such a fashion, compliments on his body escaping Turkey's lips every once in a while, filling Iceland with a bit of confidence. Turkey's hands made quick work of Iceland's pants, removing them in a flash.

The moonlight curved to every contour of Iceland's body, the older nation raking his eyes over the beautiful form underneath him. He lapped up the boy's nipples, loud whines and shrieks sounding from Iceland from the ecstasy of the moment. Turkey grunted and sighed at odd moments, his sexual discipline far removed from baby Iceland's.

Silently and smoothly he turned the temple of the boy over, feeling his erection ready to enter the boy. He whispered poetry into the boy's ears in his native language, feeling Iceland physically relax at the sound of his voice.

He sang folk songs as he entered the boy, the treble of his voice bouncing through the still night air. The notes became sharper and more enunciated as he entered Iceland, the accompaniment of his moans and groans punctuating his pleasure. He thrust into Iceland harder and harder, carnal pleasure distorting his voice, his song becoming base and primal. He held Iceland closely to him, his head thrown back, moon light shining through his hair like strands of divine silver. Iceland's fluttering eyelids revealed those fey eyes that flared like precious gems, taking the light and holding it within.

Turkey could feel his essence flow from him like a flooding dam, raging into the boy, marking him as his own. The climax was fast approaching, their skin marred by a thin film of sweat. Their essences mingled, hot and sticky, closer now more than ever. Iceland's breathing was ragged and raw; Turkey was calm and collected. He had experienced this many times before, nothing being new to him.

Iceland bucked towards him, a groan shattering the brief silence. Turkey could feel the onset of an orgasm, his loins heating intensely. Iceland was trembling and shivering, a strange influx of feelings surging through his body like an unbridled passion.

The Turkish man finally removed himself after several minutes of the moment of lust, breathing heavily. He put his pants back on, wiping away the sweat of his brow. Iceland simply stared at the sky through the thin veil of the cabana top, sight lost within the emerging stars. His hair was loosely plastered to his face and head, eyes shining like crystal. Everything about the boy was exotic, so alluring beneath the moonlight.

Turkey lied next to Iceland, pulling the boy close to him. Iceland rested a hand on Turkey's chest, looking so soft and angelic. He cuddled closely to the older man, shivering slightly in the night as the heat was stolen away. The night sky was cleansed of any remnants of the day, reminding Iceland of how he had accomplished his goal.

"I never knew you were so experienced, Turkey," Iceland said breathlessly, running his fingers over the slight chest hair of Turkey's chest.

"You're the best partner I've had in awhile, Emil," Turkey confessed, using to human name, something only used between the closest of nations. He pulled Iceland closer who snuggled into him, his only guard against the night cold. "You've also completed your goal, haven't you?"

"I guess I have," Iceland said quickly, a shy smile upon his face. "Denmark can't make fun of me anymore. I guess I've come of age, haven't I? This is the largest hurdle for any nation."

"Don't worry about trivial things like that," Turkey lightly scolded. "What about us? You don't intend to leave me, to treat me the same as before, do you? I have no intention of merely remaining as friends, Emil."

"I like you, you like me. That means we're together, Sadiq." Iceland traced a heart into Turkey's chest.

Turkey nodded, taking that hand and pulling it to his mouth, kissing it lightly. He heaved Iceland upwards, closer to his face.

"This home is yours now, too, alright? You come crash whenever you feel like it, so just leave everything to me." Iceland gently kissed him.

"The Blue Lagoon will be waiting for you," Iceland cheekily rhymed, smiling childishly. "The Northern Lights and Midnight sun, too."

Turkey smiled sleepily and watched as Iceland shifted around slightly before releasing a final breath and falling completely asleep.

His own eyes closed, looking forward to a bright morning, the first one for the two of them.

.END.

* * *

Last thoughts: I've just come to terms with the fact that one of my favorite kinks is first-time sex involving an experienced adult showing a teen chara the ropes. Or if the uke is just younger and virgin, that counts, too. There's just something really hot about it... Hopefully I can evolve beyond it and present you guys with more interesting stuff... Thank God for the kink meme!

I've a few ideas of my own cooking, so don't fret too much!

~Peace, G


	3. A Day In The Life

The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland proudly present...

A Day In The Life

(Warnings: M, sexytimes, slice o' life, lazyassSeme!Turkey, waifuUke!Iceland, Cyprus, Northern Cyprus, fluff)

Iceland yawned slightly, stretching his arms around him. He turned to face the man sleeping next to him, his first-time lover, Turkey. He studied the resting form of his lover, gently stroking a finger along his strong jaw, the bristles of his beard brushing past.

A broad hand took his and held it to his tanned face, honey-brown eyes opening slowly to gaze at him for what seemed to be a peaceful eternity. Iceland smiled softly, leaning forwards to softly kiss Turkey on his forehead.

"_Günaydın, aşkım_. Hopefully I got that right," Iceland smiled, Turkey taking an arm and draping it protectively over Iceland's stomach. The two lovers simply enjoyed each other's presence for awhile longer, listening to the sounds of each other breathing, the twittering of the birds outside.

"Thank you for letting me stay longer. It might be awhile because of Laki's unpredictability, what with the evacuations at my house." Iceland's face became troubled, the back of his hand resting across his forehead.

Turkey pulled him close, on his side, bumping heads with the smaller nation. "You can stay forever if that means I can protect you. You're so young, still so new…" Iceland snuggled into the crook of his upper arm, cheek against his upper chest.

"I'm scared for everyone, Sadik. What they decide they don't want to come back? What if the volcano destroys everything?" Iceland closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath.

"Hey, don't think like that, boy. Nothing of the sort will happen. The smoke will clear and everything will return to normal," Turkey said reassuringly, kissing the crown of his head. Iceland smiled shyly, closing his eyes and relaxing.

Already it had been three days since their hook up in Turkey's private hamam, an event that still made Iceland extremely embarrassed to think about, especially with…

"Can someone please help me fix breakfast? Cyprus isn't awake yet!"

…the Cyprus brothers living under the same roof as he and Turkey.

"Can you help him this morning, Emil? I'm still exhausted from all of that work from yesterday," Turkey said, kissing Iceland gently before the young Nordic rose from the bed.

Iceland smiled. "It's the least I can do for my generous host." He put extra emphasis on "my," making Turkey chuckle to himself, flipping on to his other side where he settled into a deep sleep.

Iceland pulled on his usual dress top, he having slept with his pants on. Turkey hadn't asked for sex since then which was fine with him since the very thought of it still sent shivers down his spine.

Leaving the sanctity of Turkey's magnificent chambers, Iceland wandered through the halls until he came to the unified area where a bulk of the house was. He turned a corner where he came to the kitchen.

Northern Cyprus walked over to Iceland, giving the young Nordic an imploring look. Iceland smiled and picked the young nation into his arms, balancing him on one of his hips.

"So, what would you like to eat?" Iceland asked cheerfully, taking the young Cyprian into the kitchen, silent encouragement for him to make a decision. Northern Cyprus examined the wares, peering into the glass-covered cabinets with many varieties of food inside.

The young nation remained quiet, glancing at Iceland shyly, and then sighing.

"You've been sleeping with big brother Turkey, haven't you? You smell just like him," Northern Cyprus observed dryly, almost as if he were making a common observation about the weather. "You've probably done everything. You've got love marks on your neck."

Iceland's face froze, a caricature of horror; a hand slapped on his neck to automatically conceal those marks. An eye muscle twitched and all coordination seemed to be shot.

"N-No! You're mistaken! The bed I slept him was far away from that old man!" Iceland squeaked, his voice a dead giveaway. "We're just friends! I'm going to stay here for awhile, but it's just as friends!" Northern Cyprus didn't buy it.

"Then I suppose you frequently trip and land on your neck hard enough to cause your blood vessels to break. Unless it's common with you Nordics…" The younger nation hopped from Iceland's arms and on to the ground, taking a seat on the bench of the dining room table and sitting rather demurely.

He craned his neck, giving Iceland an utterly deadpan expression. "Please get me some breakfast. I don't care what it is as long as it's not England's cooking."

Iceland looked irked, but just huffed and turned around, trying to scrounge up something together.

"So, you and Mr. Adnan are in a relationship. Congratulations! Ah, let's see…" Iceland shivered as he felt his collar being pulled down, inspected so shamelessly. "It seems my brother was right. But, please, don't worry about it! I'm happy for you both."

Cyprus smiled warmly when Iceland turned towards him, then backing away. "I'll cook something for my little brother, so don't worry about it." Cyprus had a similar tanned appearance to Turkey, hair and eyes an amber color like his younger brother as well. He smiled warmly, almost reminiscent of Spain's mannerisms.

Cyprus leaned in a little closer, studying Iceland's face. "Um, what is it?" Iceland's voice cracked, flinching away stiffly.

"You're rather beautiful, aren't you? If I didn't know any better I'd think you were an angel come to walk among us," Cyprus said frankly, smiling again. "Ah, I'm rather jealous of Sadik now…"

Iceland had a look of utmost confusion, feeling the color drain from his face. First, he had his body to worry about. Now he looked like a girl? What would be in store for him next?

A pair of arms circled his waist and stomach, the hard weight of a jaw bearing from the crown of his head. "Mornin'," Turkey greeted lazily, yawning. Iceland could feel as the older nation's lungs filled with air, then as they deflated. Northern Cyprus quirked an eyebrow, smirking smugly. Cyprus chuckled to himself as he prepared his younger brother some breakfast.

"If you want a woman so badly, go into town and chase some down. This one's mine, got it?" Turkey cocked a crooked grin. He tightened his grip around Iceland and kissed his cheek firmly. To Iceland it honestly felt like he was a kitten getting a tongue bath from a dog. He wondered how many times he'd have to endure such mollycoddling in one day if this was just the morning.

Turkey yawned again and fondled Iceland's ass before shuffling towards the table to plop down in a chair, propping his feet upon the table. Northern Cyprus gave him a look of disdain, sighing like a parent too passive to discipline their child. He flipped his hood up and dozed off, probably only waking up again once breakfast was ready.

Cyprus just sighed, inviting Iceland into the kitchen. "Today I'm going to make some _menemen_. You can start by dicing up the onions, tomatoes, and the green peppers. Tell me when you're done, alright?" Iceland nodded and went to work, trying to shake off the embarrassment of Turkey's bold actions.

While Cyprus worked at the old-fashioned stove, frying pan sizzling with the olive oil, Iceland tried his best to dice up the vegetables. Although he'd have an easier time slicing up a fish, he tried his best. Soon, Cyprus turned on a nearby radio, Turkish folk music filling the large, open space with the delightful strains of a violin, the plucking of a _saz_, or a type of lute, as well as a rich variety of different instruments.

"Ouch!" Iceland winced, lifting his hand to inspect a finger with a shallow gash that was spurting blood.

Cyprus took Iceland's hand, sucking on Iceland's finger with a serious expression on his face. Iceland blushed, glancing over at Turkey. The elder nation had a stern expression on his face, lifting his head to glare at Cyprus, one eye visible that made him all the more intimidating to look it. Iceland looked away, focusing instead on Cyprus who had ripped off a small portion of his shirt to tie to Iceland's bleeding finger. Once that was done, Cyprus resumed cooking, whistling obliviously.

Turkey gazed at Iceland for a moment, mouth pulled into a hard line. It was obvious that he had been jealous of what had happened, what with Cyprus having made an open pass at Iceland even after he knew of Turkey's relationship with the younger nation.

What amazed Cyprus was that Turkey was interested in such a young nation. He looked to be younger than himself, maybe even younger than his never-changing brother. It was for certain that Iceland was indeed beautiful and rather adorable, but that didn't hide that fact that he was significantly younger than the Turkish nation. From what he guessed, both had already had sex, but Iceland was still painfully immature. Even after being around Turkey for a long enough time, the man was still as mysterious and enigmatic as the mask he frequently wore. That was another thing; Turkey hadn't worn any of his masks since about a week ago. It had to be Iceland; he wanted to open himself up to his young lover.

"Greece called. He wants me to leave by this evening." Cyprus's news shook the unstable morning peace, riling Turkey up.

"That bastard has been breathing down your neck for too long! Don't you want to get away from him? At least with me you have a bit more independence," Turkey scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. Iceland continued dicing up more ingredients, the new topic too tense for him to interfere into.

"I have no choice but obey him and his bosses. To disobey him could spell war for us Balkans. Besides, I'm not sure you don't want to fight in vain when you have someone who needs you." Turkey gazed longingly at Iceland, sighing sadly.

"Yeah. Just forget it." Turkey dozed off again, although it was certain that it seemed to be faked. Northern Cyprus got up and placed a hand on Turkey's shoulder. Said nation started slightly, but then he relaxed and smiled at Northern Cyprus who smiled back at his guardian figure.

"I won't let that bastard ever harm you," Northern Cyprus said solemnly. "You have me at your side."

"Yeah." He gazed at Iceland, the younger nation to reticent to say anything, back to them all. He sighed but said nothing.

It wasn't long until the menemen was finished, enough for each of them to have as much as they wanted. Iceland and Cyprus set the table together, setting out a plethora of other, accompanying dishes. Rings of the bread called simit lay in baskets alongside trays of finger foods. Each had small glasses in which they could pour as much Turkish black tea as they wanted. Turkey always drank his strong with lots of sugar. Iceland, being new to their culture, was allowed the weakest possible, watered down to weaken the strong flavor.

Everyone served their portions, taking bits of the finger food and simit. Iceland tried to play it safe and took small portions, quite the contrast to Turkey who loaded up his plate to the brim with food.

"Alright, let's eat!" Turkey said eagerly, grabbing a fork and starting to dig in ahead of them. Cyprus just laughed amicably while his younger brother shook his head disapprovingly. Iceland weakly laughed, which luckily escaped their notice.

They all ate; the atmosphere of earlier completely dissipated. Cyprus and his little brother drilled him with questions about life in Iceland, which awoke within him a feeling of home sickness. It wasn't too strong since he was with the one he loved, but he still missed the many friendly people nonetheless. He gladly answered questions about fishing, a longtime pastime of his. The Cyprus brothers seemed to agree since they were surrounded by water.

"Man, I'm stuffed!" Turkey exclaimed, lazily propping his feet on the table again as the other three nations cleared the table. He flipped up his hood again, looking ready to doze off. Iceland just rolled his eyes and helped Cyprus wash everything off.

"Mr. Adnan, I'm going to go outside for a smoke. Perhaps you'd like to join me?" Cyprus offered, watching as his younger brother took off towards the terrace outside.

"Yeah, sure. Set it up, will ya?" Turkey said sleepily, waving the younger Mediterranean nation off. Cyprus sighed and followed after the scampering de facto nation.

Iceland made way to where Turkey was dozing, hovering over him from behind. His head was directly above Turkey's, getting a unique upside down perspective. He was suddenly pulled down by a hand, receiving an inverse lip lock from the elder nation. Iceland just stood in shock, unable to move. Turkey bent his head back more, trying to make it more comfortable for Iceland, it seemed.

"Come on, let's go outside now," Turkey said, rising from the chair. He took Iceland around the waist and they skirted around the table before heading outside.

Cyprus was lazing on one of the plush couches, Northern Cyprus cuddling close to him, having fallen asleep. At the sight of Iceland he drew a long dreg of smoke from his hookah and blew smoke rings from his lips. Iceland stared on in curiosity, never before having seen such a thing done with smoke. Turkey smirked, taking Cyprus's smoke trick as a challenge.

Turkey sat on an opposite couch facing the sea, sinking into it. Iceland sat demurely by, watching as Turkey fiddled with his personal hookah before relaxing into the couch and clamping down on the mouthpiece. He brought Iceland closer to him, the young nation idly watching the activity in the Black Sea coast.

"That can't be healthy for you," Iceland remarked, watching as an old-fashioned ferry glided across the choppy sea. The breezes picked up to rustle his hair, the sub glaring in his eyes.

"That's just a matter of opinion, love," Turkey retorted mildly, puffing smoke like a dragon through his slightly crooked nose. Iceland decided to be daring, even before someone who was nearly a complete stranger.

He lightly straddled himself to Turkey's lap, the older man's eyes narrowing and his lips tugging into a smirk, obviously having wanted this for quite awhile. He tilted his head back, knowing from the get go that Iceland's body language clearly indicated his intent. Iceland placed teasing kisses to Turkey's neck which he hoped would somewhat frustrate the older nation. He wanted to test the limits of Turkey's patience, something he figured the older man could only have so much of.

Cyprus licked the mouthpiece of his hookah suggestively, seeing as he was in for a free show for the mid-morning. He wolf-whistled loudly, drawing Iceland's attention to him.

Iceland gazed at him with fey violet eyes, Turkey's matching that gaze with his own intense golden ones. Cyprus put his hands up in defeat, turning the couch so it faced the horizon, away from the lovers' play. They were fortunate the grand house was sheltered by forests on all sides, still affording wonderful views while retaining a high degree of privacy.

Turkey resumed smoking from the hookah, relaxing himself so Iceland wouldn't have to worry about him being too tense.

Iceland placed small kisses of the older man's neck, licking over the muscle cords that stuck out. Turkey chuckled as Iceland kissed his hard trachea, licking the length of the prominent muscle cords. He sighed as the younger nation laved a thin line from the trachea to the underside of his jaw all the way to his chin. Turkey could feel his body heating up so he took a deep breath and released it was thick clouds of tobacco smoke. He instantly mellowed but the sensations Iceland was gifting to him made him acutely aware of the lust growing inside of him. If only Cyprus and his little protégé weren't here then maybe he and Iceland could have a nice roll in the hay.

Iceland coiled his arms around Turkey's neck, forcefully lowering his face so they could see eye to eye. Turkey exhaled the last of the smoke in his lungs, sighing contentedly as Iceland continued his ministrations. Kisses rained upon his jaw, beard, all the way up to his eyelids. At this point he was struggling to contain the urge to do Iceland right then and there; his little minx was testing him.

He felt those soft lips grace upon his eyelids, dancing from nose to brow to chin to cheek. Turkey sighed, trying to stifle a moan. There were many "ah"'s peppered throughout the courtship, and Turkey could see that he was soon reaching his limits.

"What are you trying to…ahh…prove, boy?" Turkey sighed, his leg muscles tensing as Iceland continued gleefully towards his chest, twisting off the buttons one by one.

He placed a kiss on Turkey's lips. "I'm simply indulging you," came his reply. Turkey curled his toes and fingers, feeling heat coursing through like blissful poison. It was a torturous denial of the carnal pleasure he craved for now.

"Back in the day, probably when you were smaller than little Cyprus, I used to have a dozen women indulge me at once. Sometimes there were boys not much older than you; all of whom were beautiful… Women these days are too skinny… I liked 'em when they were full… Even the boys had nice and full bodies…" he rambled pointlessly, sucking in a great dreg of the mellowing smoke. It soothed the beast roaring within him like music.

Iceland quelled himself, removing himself from Turkey's lap and sitting next to him. He curled his legs to his body, arms bracing them there. He stared with disconnect at the sea, the sky, the sun.

"Well, sorry I can't be your ideal," Iceland said grudgingly. "That's how it is nowadays. Women want to be thin and men want to be muscular. Deal with it."

Turkey put his hookah aside, wrapping his arms around Iceland.

"Hey, you know, that's not true, what I said. Back then, no one obsessed over their bodies. We all just lived and accepted each other, not judging like they do nowadays. It wasn't as harsh, at least. Besides, I like you the way you are. You're sexy dynamite, boy!" Iceland looked at him meekly.

"Really?" Iceland asked, voice small and feeble. Turkey nodded, pulling the boy close like before.

Iceland cuddled close to him, curling his legs in, becoming small and irresistibly adorable to the older man. Iceland smiled sweetly and handed him his hookah, which Turkey gratefully took between his teeth.

"That smoke doesn't smell very good, you know," Iceland pointed out. Turkey just scoffed and continued smoking, Iceland deciding to wrap his arms around Turkey's abdomen, squeezing him slightly.

Turkey put an arm around his back, liking where Iceland was.

Today was going to be a very fine day.

.TO be CONTINUED.

* * *

Last thoughts: Okay, I had a major urge to write a homey drabble for no reason. The thought of Iceland being a cute little waifu just crept up on me and hit like a delightful bucket of cold bricks. This story is basically a continuation of "Dearest, We Gather" and will be one of those exploration, dayinthelifeofthisperson fics that goes into a chara's life and shows you around town. I really wanted to kind of...pioneer Iceland being incorporated into Turk's family. The thought of him being Northern Cyprus's mommy seemed way too cute for me. In the next part I want them to get closer and be all cute among the family!angst you saw here. Oh dear, I made Cyprus a bit of a voyeur, didn't I? Well, if little Icy wasn't so horny that wouldn't be a problem~ XD So yeah, here's the new TurkIce family: Turk's the daddy, Icy's the mommy (though my headcanon thinks he's younger than Cyprus), Northern Cyprus is like the reallymature!baby, and Cyprus is the brother/stepson because Greece hates Turkey and Northern Cyprus...so he wants him home all of the time. Even though Cyprus is supposed to be "polite and expressive," I think he can be naughty sometimes~ After all, isn't sunny ol' Spain a shotacon voyeur? (At least, according to the kink meme he is...)

All in all, I'm writing this for my own pleasure. Beware the headcanon.

~Peace, G


	4. Always For You

_The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland __proudly presents..._

Always For You

(Warnings: T, angst, family, hurt/comfort, kindascary!Turkey, sadface!Iceland, Turkey/Iceland)

Turkey awoke slowly, feeling the rays of the morning sun heating his back. The nation shifted slightly to the side, facing the sun. He rested on his back for a moment, watching as the sun slowly crested the horizon and erupted into vivid sunbeams that engulfed the world in a warm glow, chasing away the shadows to the west. He blinked slowly, watching this daily occurrence blissfully, aware that it was his first as a man renewed.

However, something wasn't right. The cabana was empty except for himself, as were his arms. He sat up and looked around, seeing only the filmy view of the world through the translucent veils.

Turkey was up in a shot from the bed, flinging away the gently rustling veils in a panic. He looked around the walled terrace, trying to see a head of silvery hair. All he saw was nothing.

He dashed indoors, somewhat surprised at finding the door opened.

From somewhere in the home, beautiful strains of a feminine sounding voice filling his ears like the lingering scent of a one-night stand. Turkey calmed himself and followed the sound of the voice.

He walked through the halls and occasionally stopped, closing his eyes to focus only on the beautiful lilt of the voice. As he continued further, towards his room, it distinctly sounded louder. Then, a single high note was carried, lifting like the sound of a single bell echoing within a cathedral. He was somewhat struck by it, by how angelic it sounded.

He eased the door before his room open, peeking inside. He saw no one inside, but went in to investigate anyway. He came to his bed to see the male belly dancer's outfit carelessly strewn among the crimson silk sheets. He also could see evidence of last night's occurrence with the tousled sheets, which made him smirk from the dirty thoughts crossing his mind.

The singing resumed, the last note carried away with the morning breeze. He passed through the French doors to his balcony, brushing away the thin curtains. He saw Iceland sitting precariously on the seemingly woven, encompassing rail of the balcony. This alarmed Turkey, but startling him would probably cause the young nation's demise.

"That song was in Turkish, wasn't it?" Turkey began casually, leaning on his elbows against the rail. Iceland flinched but slowly swung himself around to face Turkey.

"Uh, I was just looking on Youtube for songs, and I thought it could help me on pronunciation. It's a method America taught me about a couple years back, but all he made me listen to was Marilyn Manson. I think I could swear in English better than actually speak it back then," Iceland said, scratching the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.

Turkey looked away briefly, gazing at the brightening sky and the world enveloped by it. There was a twinge of regret that wished he could've awoken with Iceland, embraced by him, and that they could've witnessed this beautiful event together as lovers.

"You sounded too beautiful. I know of the song that you were singing just now. Its supposed to sound more masculine, deeper," he stated. Iceland watched the sunrise as well.

"It's sad, isn't it? Already I'm out of puberty and I still sound so feminine." Iceland sighed, smiling ruefully to himself. Turkey gazed at those glittering violet eyes, smiling into their collective silence.

"I remember a long time ago there was a beautiful land found off the coast of Greenland. Greenland was a hostile place, called so to fool colonists from landing at this beautiful place. Do you know what this land was called?" Turkey gazed sidelong at Iceland, the young nation waiting for him to continue. "That land was called Iceland. It was beautiful, left for nature to conquer and people to live alongside it. Few other nations could compare to the beauty of Iceland."

Iceland just looked down. "Your relations with other nations are much better than ours. Politically and culturally. Few people ever even think of my country," he said softly. It seemed to be true. If all three hundred nations were to get together than he doubted than anyone would acknowledge him.

Iceland looked down and laughed bitterly to himself. "Norway called. They know that I'm here and they're pissed." He hopped from the rail and leaned against the doors, feeling the cool glass against his skin.

Turkey simply wrapped his arms around Iceland, holding the young nation close. "I don't want to hear you beat yourself up. I've been to your land numerous times and wish such a wondrous place was my own." Iceland turned around to hug him back.

Iceland just nodded, wanting nothing to more than to spend his days somewhere alone with this man; to forget all of his troubles. "Maybe it is true. When I wake up I sometimes feel like I'm on another planet."

The moment didn't last very long. From inside the house came a loud, shrill ringing. Iceland jumped and squirmed out of Turkey's arms in a hurry, scrambling into Turkey's room to rifle through his belongings and procure his iPhone. He shakily answered once he saw the caller ID.

Turkey came inside, solemnly listening to the angered exchange of words between Iceland and the caller. The boy was obviously speaking a Scandinavian language which he could only pick out a few words of. It was a necessity for every nation to know just a little bit of almost every language commonly spoken. It was times like these that such abilities were needed.

"Listen, I'll be home soon!" A pause. "Denmark, shut up! How is bringing up the volcano incident going to solve anything? Do you think I can stop events like that? Can you keep a glacier from melting? Of course not, so just fuck off!" Iceland retorted scathingly, switching into English.

There was a blare of speech from the phone and Iceland distanced it from his ear, glaring at it. "And you're calling me immature? I wonder who drove me to do this in the first place! Which one of us is really the immature one, Denmark! I'll be home as soon as I can so just chill! Pun intended!" He jammed his finger on the touch screen and tossed it on the bed, himself as well, groaning loudly in frustration. Despite the situation, Iceland's frustrations were rather amusing to watch.

"Do you want me to call a cab?" Turkey offered, quirking an eyebrow at Iceland's current state.

"Mph."

"What was that?" Turkey asked, trying to stifle laughter poorly.

Iceland turned his head and childishly pouted. The effect looked rather sexy, rather than flustered. "I said 'yes.'"

Turkey just laughed and crawled on to the bed, hovering over Iceland. The younger nation could hear the bed creak slightly under the Turk's weight, which prompted him to turn around and look upwards.

"Oof!" Iceland sputtered as the older man suddenly lowered his weight upon him, their faces barely inches apart. His face began to heat uncomfortably at their closeness; Turkey, on the other hand, looked rather unfazed, a smirk upon his lips.

"Whatever happens, I don't want you to forget anything," Turkey said, kissing Iceland's lips several times. The boy sighed and wound his arms around Turkey's neck, kissing back tenderly.

"Don't worry about it. I'll make them accept our relationship," Iceland said softly, fingers running through Turkey's hair. "Now get off of me, you horny nation," he added, sensually licking Turkey's earlobe. This sent pleasant shivers down the Turk's spine.

"Who's the horny nation, boy?" Turkey replied, his rebuttal in the form of a nip to the Nordic's neck. Iceland whimpered, his nails suddenly digging into Turkey's skin.

Turkey pushed himself away from the bed and on to the floor, offering the younger nation his hand. Iceland took it and was pulled into Turkey's arms, the older nation holding him close.

"Okay, you can let go now! Geez, you can't keep your hands off– Hey, not there, pervert!" Iceland screeched as he felt Turkey's hands roam to his bottom, immediately removing the Turk's hands from there. He huffed indignantly and went to his belongings to paw through them for something he knew he wasn't looking for. However, if it gave him a reason to put some distance between them, he didn't really mind all that much.

Slowly, he turned towards Turkey, wondering if could somehow glean a scrap of information regarding his behavior.

"Hey, why do you have to be so clingy? Why can't you give me some space?" he almost murmured, shyly looking away. Turkey perked up at what Iceland said, hooking his thumbs in his jean pockets.

He frowned slightly, a vulnerability settling among his features. "I want you," he replied softly, circling his arms around Iceland's neck. "I want you more than I've wanted anyone in a long time." He rested his chin on the crown of the shorter boy's head. Iceland blushed, tongue in cheek.

"Alright, whatever. Come on, I hear the cab outside." Iceland brushed away Turkey's words, but in actuality, he felt dizzy. His words were honest and sincere, holding a depth that was conveyed in such simple-sounding words. It made the Nordic's heart beat hot and strong and made him flushed and dizzy. He didn't understand such sensations but felt that questioning them would only make it more confusing for him.

Turkey smiled tenderly, having a sense of what the younger boy was feeling. There was a word for it that his friend Japan taught him about… Tsundere, was it? Iceland shrugged off his feelings as nothing and brushed away Turkey's merely because he was trying to be tough, to hide his vulnerable side, to show his affection in different ways. Although it would prove to be frustrating, he just couldn't see himself getting angry at his cute little Iceland.

Both nations exited the room and eventually the house. In twenty minutes Iceland had helped Turkey pack for the trip, seeing as he was set to meet his family in Denmark. For some reason it brought feelings of nostalgia that Iceland couldn't shake off. It felt so familiar, like sand slipping through his fingers. But at the same time it made his head hurt thinking about what it was. Looking at Turkey seemed to connect to whatever memory he was trying to remember and for some reason it made him want to stay close to the older man.

"Hey, what's wrong, boy?" Turkey asked once they were settled in the cab and rolling down the charming old back streets; Iceland just shook his head, looking like someone thinking of something painful. Turkey put a hand on the young nation's shoulder, silent encouragement for him to talk.

Iceland gave him a sad expression before hanging his head.

_There was a heavy mist rolling in from the Atlantic, a tall man in foreign robes and with a face masked in shadow, a great headpiece of cloth wrapped around his head. His striking golden eyes peered through to him, the young nation. His elegant sword was drawn, keeping the infant nation's protectors at bay. He looked like a demi-god incarnate speaking a language no one understood. The large band of men behind seemed poised to obey his orders. Even the infantile nation knew that the man commanded great power._

"You were the Ottoman Empire once, right?" Iceland began, the image of the man in opulent crimson robes frozen within his mind. He gazed outside the window, his skin prickling from that winter so long ago. The arm around his shoulders tightened a bit.

"I was at my most powerful then, Izlanda. I was an empire almost unrivaled within Europe." Turkey could tell that Iceland was remembering that day, how Iceland shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Iceland simply looked away, out of the window. He seemed to hold his breath, avoiding Turkey's gaze at all costs.

He was starting to remember.

Looking out of the airplane window, Iceland continued to ignore Turkey. At certain points Turkey could see Iceland's transparent face harden against the window glass, wisps of clouds as fleeting as his thoughts. Turkey tried initiating conversation with the boy only to be rebuffed by a gentle shake of his head and a strained smile.

The tiny porthole offered the only escape for Iceland's melancholy as he pieced his memories together, expansive and troubling.

"_Come with me, boy; this is no longer your home."_

Iceland grimaced at the voice echoing through his mind, at how lonely he'd felt those many centuries ago. There was no doubt at all at the identity of the one who'd taken him.

But...the man hadn't been cruel. If anything, he'd kept Iceland at his side, protecting him from the probing ambitions of the Janissaries. The man swathed in crimson robes had been the only to show him any kindness, as any father would their child. The man was old enough to have been his father. Iceland grimaced again at this, nausea tearing through his stomach, making him burn painfully inside.

He remembered high domes and musky scents, the cascade of water as it gushed from the opulent throat of a fountain. He remembered stunning geometric designs, streets barren of women and the loud bustle of a magnificent, sheltered bazaar. Everywhere he saw men in turbans kneeling several times a day in homage of Allah towards Mecca.

The place had been kind and clean, to a degree. He'd learned of how miserly slave boys could become free and learned, if they excelled enough.

Still, as beautiful the facade the Ottoman Empire put forth, it didn't diminish the fact that he'd been stolen from his home and forced into a life of servitude.

Minutes lapsed into hours and hours into oblivion. Even though the cabin remained a constant temperature, Turkey gazed out of the window to see squalls of snow ad ice lashing against the wind with a ferocity unmatched. The Turkish man wasn't accustomed to the cold, for it rarely ever snowed within his country, and found himself dreading their imminent departure into the cold.

Before long, the plane was easing itself onto the runway and taxing to the Norwegian airport Iceland was supposed to meet his "family" at. Or rather, they would be heading to Norway's home in close proximity to the Norwegian governmental base of operations. Turkey could see that Iceland was growing more anxious by the minute at the looming prospect of seeing his family again, returning to them soiled, no longer a virgin.

As they waited at the baggage claim, unfamiliar languages drifting with confusion through their minds, Turkey placed a soothing hand on Iceland's shoulder.

"Everything will work out, Izlanda. Don't worry, alright boy?" Turkey grinned wryly, eliciting a shadow of a similar response from Iceland.

Soon, everything was in order and delay was no longer feasible. Taking a taxi to Norway's home, Turkey felt a pal of despair radiating strongly from Iceland, the younger nation hiding his face behind drooping bangs.

Turkey wanted to say something, but sensed that nothing he could say could soothe a boy so close to the jaws of anger that was to be his family.

The taxi let them off shortly, the cab driver acting as a porter for such prestigious guests. Iceland bravely led the way to the door, although it seemed to be more faltering than what Iceland believed it to be.

Iceland feebly knocked at first, knuckles barely touching the aged wooden surface. Steeling himself, he knocked harder, brows furrowing in determination. He waited, trembling from the cold and his ow fear. Not even Turkey's had on his shoulder helped at all.

The door slowly eased open to find a very cheerful Finland at the door, the older Nordic taking Iceland's hand and pulling him eagerly inside.

"Everyone! Iceland's back!" he called cheerfully, practically dragging the morose nation over the threshold ad into the waiting foyer.

Turkey weakly followed, soon coming face to face with a ashen-faced Sweden, said nation appraising the Turk with eyes hardened beyond compare.

"S'me'ne else 's 'ere," the Swedish man gruffed, almost nose to nose to Turkey. Turkey swallowed and entered as Sweden stepped aside, seeming to be a barrier between him and the Nordics waiting within, Iceland dragged away. The door separating Turkey and the living room Iceland and his family was in promptly shut as Sweden gave him one last look.

Iceland found himself surrounded by his fellow Nordics, every one of them bearing stern or anxious expressions. Even the guileless Denmark was sullen; even Norway's eyes seemed to glitter with worry amid his usual stoic expression.

"Where were you, Iceland?" Norway started, walking towards Iceland. He knelt down, trying to gaze into Iceland's averted eyes. His voice was gentle and soothing, the voice that used to read Iceland fairy tales before the boy fell asleep at night. The Norwegian affectionately brushed away a wisp of hair from Iceland's face, then gently cupping his face in his hand.

"I was with Turkey," Iceland stated firmly, timidly raising his eyes to lock with Norway's equally unfathomable ones. Norway instantly became troubled at the sound of the mighty Muslim nation. He cast a glace towards Sweden and the man nodded, Finland giving them an innocuous and confused glace.

"And he's here," Norway said, almost as if voice was a death knell, the other Nordics instantly looking troubled.

Iceland nodded feebly, meekly glancing at the door he knew the oldest nation of them present was beyond. Norway swept a hand through his hair, expression more anxious than ever.

Denmark rushed towards Iceland and gripped the youngest Nordic by the shoulders, face livid with rage. "What the hell is he doing here? Are you stupid! The last thing we need is some _Muslim _nation coming here! He must be fricking crazy, thinking he'd be welcome here!" Denmark seethed, glaring fiercely towards the door.

Iceland shrugged off Denmark's grip, trying his best to contain himself. He backed away, only to have Sweden firmly stop him.

"Do you remember what you said yesterday, Denmark?" he choked out, near tears now. Finland rushed over to the teenaged nation, concern evident in the maternal nation's gentle eyes.

"What happened yesterday?" Finland demanded, pulling Iceland into his arms, the younger nation fighting back tears.

All eyes trained themselves on Denmark, the Danish man suddenly losing his usually overbearing confidence. He stood in silence for a moment before shaking his head ad sinking into a nearby couch, holding his head in his hands.

"I'll tell you. I'm sure you're all dying to know," Iceland whispered spitefully, the rush of memories piling up like a traffic jam. In the quiet of the room, his voice was almost too loud.

Iceland pulled himself away from Finland's comforting embrace, glaring at Denmark with as much hate as he could summon.

"I don't even want to repeat most of what you said, you goddamn bastard! You drunk bastard! Don't you remember? You attacked me as harshly as you could and know you don't even remember it? Do you have any idea how much I wanted to kill myself after you said all of that filth about me? You even got physically abusive... Don't you dare act ignorant towards it!" Denmark just stared at him blankly like a fish, mouth gaping and struggling to defend himself.

Norway was frozen, sinking into a couch and reeling at what Iceland had said...all of which was true. He couldn't help but think of his own scars, his own torment that he suffered at Denmark's hand...

Even though he loved that stupid Danish more than he should.

"Do you want proof? Look," Iceland quickly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing scars dotting in multitudes across his body, "and see what you've done."

"I'm sorry, Iceland! I can't frickin' help it! It's just, being a nation, it hurts all of the time..." Denmark pleaded, apology desperate.

Iceland smiled darkly, eyes hidden by a menacing shadow. "Guess what, big brother Denmark? I'm no longer a virgin, just like you wanted me to be."

This time, Norway lost himself. He sped across to Iceland and seized the Nordic by the lapels of his jacket, eyes livid. "That's not true!" he hissed, suppressed anger boiling forth. His brother was never gentle when he was angry.

Suddenly, the door banged open and Turkey surged through, stealing Iceland away from Norway's vice and into his embrace, holding Iceland possessively and angrily.

"I'll be damned if you hurt him!" Turkey almost rasped, holding Iceland closely to him. All of the Nordics stood in shock, especially so for Norway and Denmark.

Iceland looked up, turning around to melt into Turkey's embrace, the older nation softening as he tenderly held his younger lover closer to him. He had to stand on the tips of his toes in order to comfortably hug the Turk around the neck, but Iceland didn't seem to mind the least.

Norway stood up slowly, standing stiffly before them. "Turkey, what did you do to him...?" he asked, seeming to have calmed down only slightly.

"I was his first time," Turkey said unhesitatingly, holding Iceland even closer to him. When they let go, he circled his arm around Iceland's shoulder, the younger nation leaning into him, his only support amid those who didn't understand him. "And I don't owe you guys an apology. Iceland isn't a normal teenager; he's hundreds of years older than one. His mind and body may look immature to you, but he's got wisdom and is more than old enough to make his own decisions."

Norway was at a loss, finding truth in Turkey's words. Iceland was the embodiment of his people, not a human teenager he was so accustomed to thinking him of. "He's so much younger compared to you..."

"We're not human. Besides, I've liked this little guy for awhile. And he likes me. I think the approval and consent we need is from each other. You guys have no place in his decisions."

"Norway, Turkey's the best guy I know. Besides...I love him. There's nothing you can do to keep us apart," Iceland said resolutely, placing a gentle hand on his older brother's shoulder.

Norway pulled Iceland into an unexpected hug, Iceland stiffening the moment he did. "Why do I still see you as my kid brother...?"

"Because, you're just stuck in the past like that old geezer over there," Iceland whispered, tenderly kissing Norway's cheek. Turkey averted his eyes, failing to mask his jealousy. It was times like these he was glad his hood was flipped up and his mask was on.

Norway blushed and eagerly returned the gesture, almost making it comical. This time Denmark was the one to be jealous.

Turkey put a hand on Iceland's shoulder. "Come on, I want to leave before you two get to the bedroom." Iceland freed himself from Norway's embrace and pouted, then yanking Turkey's down by his hood and pointedly kissing him.

"Shut up, pops," Iceland replied, turning around towards the door.

Turkey chuckled, taking Iceland around his waist.

Tonight, they were going to quite a bit of fun in their hotel room.

.to be CONTINUED.

* * *

Last thoughts: This story is dedicated to dear **Fishy ApplePie **and the lovely **Tamer Lorika, **who requested something like this. You both had lovely ideas that I couldn't help but use. I'm sorry for not developing the story more, but maybe the next chappie I'll do a little arc where we can learn about Icy's time with the big, bad Ottoman empire~ Here's a shout out to my Turkish friend, **Homicidal Otaku**, and **ToastedBacon**, a fellow American! I'll always write more stories for you dearies to enjoy, so please be patient with my antics~

Also, I've got plenty of kinks revolving around these two to fill that will be supplanted when I can't continue the main stories. Please be patient with me, my dear readers~ HomicidalOtaku, please know that Turkey's name will be changed to Turkiye in future chappies, okay? Readers, Turkey will become Turkiye so please be patient with me, dearies!

I've been reading about Ottoman Turkiye recently so future chappies in Ottoman times should be fairly accurate. Hopefully it'll make learning about the time period enjoyable as well~

~Peace, G


	5. Us, Together

The Happy Memories of Turkey and Iceland proudly presents...

Us, Together

(Warnings: K+, shy confession, plzloveme!Iceland, notsosure!Turkiye, pure fluff, Turkiye/Iceland)

Sadik's heart lay in ruin as of late. It seemed that love would not let him have his way, even with those that knew of his feelings for them.

Heracles had been his first try. The much younger nation had been surprised at first, but then that dissolved immediately into abusive anger (_how could you?_). Sadik knew that the Grecian nation had nothing but hate and anger in his heart towards him, Sadik. He knew it was wrong to love the nation that he'd not only abused and manipulated, but had lain to waste for so long. Their cause was lost, one-sided, and the fruition would be that of destruction.

Kiku, the nation of Japan, was one he assumed would return his feelings. The way Japan kindly smiled, the way his deep dark eyes mesmerized him, especially when the long, warm rays of a sunset would reveal to Sadik the true nature of Japan, the land of the rising sun,as if unveiling secrets. When Sadik had finally gathered his courage after so long to finally confess, those deep eyes became impenetrable and the smile immediately faded (_I-I'm sorry, Sadiku-san…)_.

So, here he was, traversing the lonely streets of Istanbul, feeling squelched and stifled even though this was his home. The stones were burnished and shadows slanted beneath the last, quiet warmth of the setting sun. Gulls wheeled and cried, as if mourning with him when, in truth, they were merely beggars of the sky. The narrow alley he was soon to clear heaved into a quiet boulevard littered with people quietly tapping on the stone like spiders skittering on the ground. The sun was lazily floating upon the sea, crowning it with heavenly rays of light.

Sadik sighed sadly as the first thing his tired eyes came upon were the cheerful interiors of some local bars, catering mostly to tourists and non-Muslim Turks. He found himself wandering to a nearby kiosk and tiredly ordering a few bottles of wine and other such liquors, especially his always-favorite, raki. This wasn't any different from the night before, or the night before that. He'd simply do whatever it took to shake off his omniscient loneliness.

Deciding to depart from the norm, Sadik made a beeline for the edge of the street, at the junction of shore and sand. He sat himself on a precipice and began drinking, emptily watching the dizzying number of waves. They started to blur together a little too closely…

Istanbul was a place that he loved coming to. Recently, that is. He went with his prime minister or the ambassador as often as he could, always gaining inquiring questions as to why. Emil always remained aloof and said that it was his favorite city, and that was that. The Blue Lagoon didn't always hold favor with him.

The day so far had been splendid, and Emil was excited that even though he was a nation, he'd been allowed to spend the summer at Istanbul, seeing that his superiors saw him as no more than an immortal child to begin with. So far, his week in Istanbul had been refreshing and exciting, but his quarry was one that was rather hard to come by.

He watched the sea flecked with shards of sun and shadow like fish scales. The sun was but a vestige of beaming light and a sky blanketed with windswept pastel, clouds as purple mantles floating above. Shadows long and narrow exaggerated their owners' size. The sea was alive and writhing, much like the city around him, astir on a live wire.

He wished he were more like the man this fine city, so full of character and history and life, belonged to.

Emil sighed happily as he walked along the quiet boulevard, but a single form was irregular on the silhouette of the wall. Creeping closely to it, Emil gingerly approached the figure. The man was hooded, and closer inspection revealed that it was none other than the elusive man he'd been searching so strongly for.

"Turkiye?" The man in question barely responded, only bowing his head low.

Emil immediately sat down, watching as a tear crept from the corner of the older man's eye, veiled by his ever-present mask. This immediately drew concern from Emil as he bent into the man's line of vision.

Sadik started slightly. "Izlanda? What brings you here?" he began in heavily accented English.

Emil turned towards the sunset. "You're crying." Sadik started at this.

Sadik wiped the tear away with a flick of his finger. "This liquor is so strong, it brings tears to my eyes!" His laugh was painfully forceful. "It's good, strong Turkish liquor!"

Emil turned towards him with striking amethyst eyes, which made Sadik gulp, realizing that he was in the presence of a very beautiful boy. The thought bothered him.

"_You don't need to lie to me_," Emil said evenly, albeit gently. Sadik was surprised at the boy's apparent fluency, but it made him feel more at ease.

"_You really want to know, don't you? Let's speak in English. Too many people could overhear us,_" Sadik suggested, to which Emil acquiesced. The much older man stood up and sat upon the rapidly cooling sand, shifting slightly as Emil sat but a foot away.

"So, when did you start to speak my language?" Sadik awkwardly began, trying to break the ice, even though Emil had been the one to address him first.

Emil was quiet for a long time before speaking. "After Norway found someone to love," he said quietly, digging his fingers into the smooth sand that streamed fluidly through his fingers.

Sadik started at this, feeling a resonating sense of déjà vu. "I see you're going through what I am right now?" he asked cautiously, afraid that Emil could encourage him to lift barriers he'd built up.

Emil only nodded, gathering his knees to his chest, eyes and attentions afar, drifting away to the sun and sea.

Both nations were quiet, until a frustrated Sadik decided to surge through their awkwardness.

"Hey, kid, I've known you since the holidays! Aren't we friends?" Sadik demanded, a firm hand on the young boy's shoulders.

Emil broke into a reluctant smile, then softened. Sadik couldn't help but blush at how adorable the boy was being; he felt a guilty pang in his chest.

"Yeah, you're right, pops," Emil said, shrugging off his cool front, "and I think we can be a little more honest, right?"

Both nations found themselves much more comfortable than before, and greatly loosened up.

"Agh, heartbreak sucks!" Sadik said rather robustly now, reaching for his raki and taking a great, long dreg from it. Emil nodded in agreement.

Sadik stood after draining the last of his raki, smashing the bottle against the partition and laughing in defiance to the sky. Emil stood in a rush, alarmed at how outlandish Sadik was behaving. It scared him.

"Oi, calm down! Come on, shee—oof!" Emil found himself with an armful of the older man, both plummeting in a haze of sand to the ground.

Sadik was laughing dizzily into his hands, heaving off from Emil and gradually sobering. Emil sat up, regaining his composure. An expression of concern flitted on to his features, escaping his notice, as he saw Sadik quickly lapse back into a dark mood.

"Sadik—"

"I just can't win, can I, boy? I keep getting rejected. The only two people I could ever see myself with have rejected me for each other. I'm such a poor fool…" Sadik murmured sadly, almost inaudibly.

Emil instantly remembered why he was here. He felt his heart twist and his stomach turn nauseously at his own fear and nervousness, at what he was going to do. Butterflies always came before the plunge.

"What about me? I've liked you for a while now, since Christmas! Just…please…" Emil sat on his legs, head bent over, glad to get it out of his system, but fearful now of what Sadik had to say to him.

"Boy…I just, don't know what to say…"

Emil barely moved. "Then, don't. But, I'm here, and I want to be with you…" Sadik squatted, scruffing up his hair, sighing.

"Emil, Izlanda, it's not that I don't, but, look at us. I'm so much older than you…" That made Emil hopeful. Sadik could want to be with him!

"I'm older than the oldest person on Earth besides the other nations!" Emil cried, stood, facing the darkening sky.

"I know, but…you just don't understand…" Sadik sighed.

"Sadik, look around you." The man in question quirked an eyebrow, but did as he was asked nonetheless.

He saw his own shoes…dirt…rocks…the sea…

The sea, the rocks, the sand.

Where there were facets kissed the last rays of the sun, there were shadows. Only, the shadows were a cool blue, reflecting the sky. The darkening azure sky, the weakening sun. The ditchonomy of light and darkness; the way his city was a warm sandy pink during the day and the sky was a cool ice blue. Light and shadow were never apart; they changed, but they were internally bound together by a bond eternal.

What did that have to do with them?

Emil looked up, his eyes marred by shifting bangs and his smile utterly weak and desperately hopeful. "You saw it, didn't you? The light and darkness."

Sadik, taken aback and stunned, could only say, "Yeah," as a single breath of amazement. He shook his head, returning to reality and to Emil.

Emil stood at Sadik's side. "Look at us, at our personalities, who we are. In truth, we're so different, but that's not really true. We've got a lot more in common than we think…and I think we have something the other can learn from…"

Sadik nodded slightly, if barely grasping Emil new and startling concept.

"So, what you're saying is that being together can work out, basically," Sadik said, cocking a smirk that Emil found himself missing.

Emil sighed humorously, finding himself defeated at his attempt to be mature and cool. "Uh, yeah…"

Sadik laughed richly, making Emil smile even more. "I guess we've got nothing to lose them, eh, boy? One condition: I wear the pants of the relationship, got it?"

"Alright fine, but then you have one little term that you've got to agree to." Sadik quirked an eyebrow yet again.

"And what would that be?" he intoned.

Emil wrapped his arms around Sadik's neck and gave him the sweetest, briefest, most memorable kiss he'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

* * *

Last thoughts: I'm uber sorry for not updating in months! I really need to make deadlines for me to stick to. It's just that life and such have been getting in the way... Expect more frequent updates, kk?

Just a deanon from LJ's Kink Meme.

~Peace, G


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